You know that genre of writing called “found poetry” where people will take some everyday writing, add new line breaks, and present it as some sort of collaborative art? Well the other day walking down Haight Street in San Francisco I found some poetry. It was lying on the sidewalk. Whoever dropped it there had folded it in thirds, leaving that first stanza visible. I looked to my left and right and saw no one coming to claim it. I kicked it open to make sure it wasn’t covered in gum, spit, or feces. Nope, it was relatively clean so I kept it.
Pickled onions. Ha. I’m not sure I get the PMS joke. If anyone sees Jessica around, please tell her I have her letter.